


The Case of The Time-Travelling Tailors

by ladydoor



Category: A Charm of Magpies Series - K. J. Charles, Green Men Series - K. J. Charles, The Will Darling Adventures - K.J. Charles
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Camlet Moat, Friendship, Gen, Green Men, Investigation, M/M, Magic, Magic Door, Tailoring, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydoor/pseuds/ladydoor
Summary: I was inspired by an amazing story (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28345176) by chibinocho and decided to create an addition to it from the POV of the Green Men.When somebody is playing sillybuggers with time, of course the Green Men are very interested who.
Relationships: Hawkes/Cheney, Randolph Glyde/Saul Lazenby
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Hawkes and Cheney Fiction Collection





	The Case of The Time-Travelling Tailors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chibinocho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibinocho/gifts).



“We have a problem,” Sam Caldwell said when Randolph appeared in the doorway of the Fetter Lane library.

“When don’t we?” Randolph groaned. He had been on his feet the entire day, running around London like a man possessed, and he was looking forward to a mediocre meal and excellent company. He slung his pack on one empty chair and flopped down on another. 

“Good lord, man, can’t you wait at least until I had something to eat?”

Sam gave him a look and pushed a plate with sandwiches across the table. There weren’t many left - Barney and Max had apparently gotten there first - but Randolph picked up one filled with ham and inhaled it in seconds. 

“No comment on the unevenly cut bread and lack of cucumbers? You truly must have been hungry.”

“Shut up and tell me about that problem of ours.”

Sam opened his mouth to point out that he could, in fact, either shut up or tell him, not both, but the matter was sufficiently pressing not to be fooling around.

“We have a report of strange occurrences in St George Street-”

Randolph’s brows furrowed. 

“St George Street? Between Hanover Square and Savile Row? Whatever has ever happened there?”

“Precisely, nothing. Until now,” Sam shrugged. “It’s surprising that you even know that street.”

“Only because there is a tailor shop there with which my own tailors, Henry Poole & Co, compete furiously. They say they must have a pact with the Devil because nobody can be that fast and they always know what is going to be fashionable with unerring accuracy.”

“What’s their name?” Sam inquired cautiously.

“Mmm…” Randolph’s fingers twitched irritably as he tried to recall the name. “Hawkes & Cheney.”

Sam sucked in a breath. 

“That’s funny, and by funny I mean not funny at all, because the report points to them. It seems they are doing something to time.”

Randolph sat up straight.

“Time?!”

“Uh-huh. Time does weird things around their shop. Feels wrong. Warps. I thought you better go and check soon.”

“Me?! Why me?”

“Well, you are the expert…” Sam’s lips twitched.

Randolph stared at him for a moment and then it clicked.

“Because I escaped the loop in the fens once, by sheer luck, I am the expert now? You must be joking.”

“I am joking but on the other hand, I am useless with these things and Barney and Max even more than me. And they aren’t exactly subtle.”

Randolph tapped a finger on his lips.

“True... but if the tailors are in the know, as they might be, it is probable that they know me, by sight even. If I appeared there, it might send them running before we even get the chance to investigate. It would be best to get in as a client to spend enough time there. The problem is I think Poole’s tailors mentioned they don’t take new clients without recommendation. Hm. I don’t have my suits made there - too flashy - but I know someone who might know who does or possibly even does himself. There is nothing straight about that bastard except maybe for the seams of his trousers but he owns me a favour.” 

Sam shook his head.

“I always forget how posh you really are. But it doesn’t solve the problem of you needing to get there.”

“It does, rather beautifully,” Randolph gave him a diabolical smile and turned to his lover who just arrived, looking decidedly worse for wear after the day he had spent repairing Camlet Moat.

“Good evening, Saul. We have a mission for you.” 

*

Lord Arthur Aloysius Kimberley de Brabazon Secretan was not pleased to see Randolph again and even less pleased to cough up an order for a suit for a distant relative he didn’t have. He was obviously wondering why he got away so cheap. Glyde had saved his arse and wanted only a suit as a reward? Randolph was quite happy to keep the little liar in the dark for once. 

Secretan must have been a very honoured customer because Saul got his fitting scheduled for the following Monday. Randolph and Saul made a survey of the street on Sunday when the shop was closed. Soon, they established a perimeter, on the borders of which their watches started to behave weirdly. The hands made tiny jerks back and forth, almost imperceptible when one didn’t know what to look for. When they compared their watches with Randolph standing inside the perimeter and Saul outside, they gave marginally different readings.

That was a tangible proof but they didn’t need that. They both felt the disturbance of the time on the bone-deep level. It was completely different than on that road to Swaffham Prior but Saul had the same feeling of timelessness. 

“This is not good,” he said.

“Yes, and that’s rather understating it,” Randolph agreed. He tapped at the circle they had made in the pocket map.

“Look, if we did this right, the center of the circle is in the back of the shop. So you’ll want to focus on that tomorrow. I’ll be nearby if anything happens. Just shout for me.”

He didn’t really think anything bad would happen, Secretan was an important customer and even if the tailors realized Saul was snooping, they wouldn’t dare to do anything to anger their client and would deal with the matter politely. But Randolph had been arrogant once and it had cost Saul a very unpleasant time in a cell. He was not going to make the same mistake twice.

“Do you think I’ll have time to shout?” Saul said wryly. “I swear if this is an elaborate ploy to have another suit made for me…”

Randolph snorted. 

“It really isn’t, I can assure you of _that_. Besides…” He looked around. There was nobody nearby, so he touched Saul’s hand. “... I don’t have to make up elaborate ploys to buy you a suit, do I?”

“No,” Saul said softly. “Not at all.”

*

The Hawkes & Cheney shop was ridiculously Victorian but it was nothing unusual about that. Randolph’s tailors, where Saul had been several times already, clutched at every bit of antique paraphernalia too. It made them look old and established and that was what customers of Savile Row wanted. 

The interior was paneled with mahogany, complete with a polished counter and cabinet full of tiny drawers behind it. Swatches were neatly arranged and plates of buttons and cufflinks were on display. 

Saul took all that in while he was standing on a pedestal with Mr Hawkes moving swiftly around him, taking his measurements. Mr Cheney was behind the counter, sketching and going through the swatches for Saul’s new jacket lining. It seemed they didn’t have any apprentices or employees which was peculiar. Poole’s establishment was teeming with tailors to be able to satisfy their clientele. But it made sense if these men had something to hide.

And they did, Saul could almost touch it. His gaze was drawn to the door in the rear wall of the shop. If he understood the layout of the building correctly, this door couldn’t have led anywhere. There was an open passageway in that wall, showing the base of a narrow staircase that ran behind the wall and would intersect the potential opening of the door in the middle. Above the door frame, there was a three-coloured chart, similar to ones that could be seen above elevators. 

The door reeked of magic. Saul wasn’t able to read in the ether like Randolph was. He sensed these things through Camlet Moat, through the green land. It told him when something was wrong, when something didn’t fit into the natural order of things. If that something was malevolent, it made Saul violently sick. Fortunately, this was not the case, for which Saul was grateful. Throwing up in a posh tailor shop was not on his list of welcome experiences.

The Moat did not like the door. Saul sensed several layers in it: there was something old, malevolent in it but it was rewritten by positive magic, the same kind that emanated from Cheney. Hawkes had some ability too, Saul could feel it seeping from the tailor’s fingers as they moved around him, but it was different. Cheney’s magic was clearly connected to the door and to time.

This wasn’t what bothered the Moat, though. It objected, yes, but only because the tailors did not belong here and disturbed the order. The problem was that whatever the tailors did to the door wasn’t stable. There was too much power for them to hold and shape. It was a disaster waiting to happen and Saul didn’t want to know what that would do to the veil.

He shuddered and realized Hawkes had been talking to him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was asking if you’d like a cup of tea. You are very pale, Sir,” Hawkes repeated calmly. 

The fitting was almost done and Saul needed more time. 

“That would be very nice, thank you. I haven’t been getting enough sleep lately.” 

Hawkes inclined his head in understanding and went to prepare the tea, asking on his way if Cheney would also like a cup.

Saul observed them. The two men couldn’t be different but he took a liking to them both. Hawkes was tall, blonde, with a straight posture and precise, measured movements. He was calm, quiet and collected but his eyes were kind. Cheney had messy hair and a ready smile and his body was petite and agile. He gestured a lot and his enthusiasm was very contagious.It seemed they complemented each other in business rather well and it made Saul wonder if that was the only place they worked well together.

*

“Well?” Randolph inquired immediately when Saul joined him in the street.

“Let me think,” Saul said and Randolph fell into step with him as they walked back to Fetter Lane. He knew better than to rush his lover. Saul needed time to process what he felt to be able to put it in words. 

Sam was waiting for them by the fireplace and Barney and Max were there too. They sat together, all eyes on Saul. He took a deep breath and told them everything he had been able to gather.

“So…” he finished, “you know that I find it difficult to interpret what the Moat is telling me but… it is obvious they travel in time, back and forth. Through that door. But when they do, they are wearing off the veil and I think the door is on the verge of collapsing.”

“Fuck,” Randolph said with feeling. “Right. It’s now, what, one o’clock. We have to go back before they close today. I need to take Barney and Max with us in case our little chat made the men want to run.”

“Your brand of talking makes everyone want to run,” Saul remarked.

“That’s why I’m having you with me.” 

It was true. Randolph was aware that his compassion for people was nearly non-existent. Saul, on the other hand, had almost unlimited well of kindness in him. Randolph didn’t understand how someone who had been hurt so much could still trust and like people but he was grateful for that. 

They had to wait hidden in a passageway diagonally opposite from the shop because there was another customer inside. Randolph sent Max to find and guard the back entrance

“Randolph,” Saul tugged at his sleeve.

“Mhm?” 

“I don’t think they are aware they are doing something wrong,” Saul said.

“That is very much not a mitigating circumstance,” Randolph said absently, eyes fixed on the shop window.

“I know but... They seem so happy in that shop…”

Randolph spun around to face him with a frown.

“What are you trying to tell me? That we should let them tear a hole in the veil?”

“No! No. I just… just don’t be so hard on them?”

Randolph sighed. 

“I’ll try.”

The customer finally left the shop. Randolph motioned to them and the tree men quickly crossed the street. 

“You know the drill, nobody gets out,” Randolph said to Barney and entered the shop with Saul following him. Barney’s form blocked the door from the outside. The tailors were tidying up the counter. Upon the ringing of the bell they both looked towards the entrance.

“Have you forgotten something, Sir?” Hawkes inquired before he realized their visitor was not their client who had just left.

“No,” Randolph said and turned the sign at the shop window to Closed. “We need to talk.”

“I am not sure I have had the honour of your acquaintance, Sir?” Hawkes straightened.

“I dare say not. My name is Randolph Glyde and I need to put a stop to what you have been doing with that door,” Randolph pointed his finger at the door in question.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me perfectly,” Randolph said and strode to the door. Hawkes made a move to intercept him but Randolph stopped him with his palm against the tailor’s chest.

“Don’t. I have two men out there and can restrain you. I prefer not to do it so step back.” 

Cheney shot an alarmed glance to Saul, who was leaning against the entrance door. 

“What is this? Who are you, really?”

Saul sighed.

“My name is Saul Lazenby. I work with Mr Glyde and we protect our world against the things that don’t belong here. You are weakening the barrier between. This is dangerous, for you as well. It must be stopped.”

“We are doing nothing wrong!” Cheney exclaimed. “We are not hurting anybody. Even the justiciary didn’t object to it!”

Randolph turned to him. 

“Justiciary? Which year are you from, originally?” 

“1885,” Cheney admitted reluctantly, his cheeks pink.

“Your Justiciary no longer exists. The war changed very many things. Now we have the Department for Special Affairs and believe me, you don’t want them to know about that door. They would confiscate the entire building, kicking you out to the street. And then the fools would proceed to destroy the world with this because they would think they are able to handle it,” Randolph said.

“Wait a moment,” Hawkes stepped in. “If you are not with them, then what authority do you have?”

“We work for England. If there is any one person we are responsible to, it’s the King of England directly. But all of this you should have found out before you blundered into this mess. You may know which patterns will be fashionable but you are blind as newborn kittens to the changes that have happened and thus you are very much doing something wrong, know it or not. Now step back and let me find out exactly how serious this is.”

Randolph touched the door with the palm of his hand and looked with his other sight. The door flared with silver. He saw the magic that rewrote the powerful old enchantment, its threads frayed thin. He saw the loop made from the veil, through which the tailors were travelling between dimensions. It was worn off, like an old shirt and all it would take was one more nudge to rip it in two. 

“You bloody fools!” he exclaimed. “How long have you been doing this?”

Hawkes and Cheney exchanged worried glances. 

“A year and a half…” Hawkes said.

Randolph groaned.

“And I guess the one who made this work in the first place was quite ill for some time afterwards.”

Cheney nodded miserably.

“That’s because your power is not strong enough to contain this. You made the portal but it has to be maintained. You can’t just barge through and call it a day!” Randolph’s voice raised in frustration.

The tailors now stood close together, almost touching.

“How bad is it?”

“Right now I cannot guarantee you have even one pass left. The door may collapse at any moment, perhaps with you in it. It must be destroyed - now.”

“But we need to go home!” Cheney was panicking.

“I cannot permit it. The risk is too great. Not only for you, otherwise I would be quite happy to let you through,” Randolph smiled without a trace of humour.

“But our home-”

“At least you are here together,” Saul said in a soothing tone. “If one of you went through and the door collapsed? You would never see each other again.”

Cheney’s cheeks were red now. Hawkes was chalk-white. 

Randolph nodded to himself and stepped to the door again. This time he placed both hands on the wooden surface and opened his mouth to speak the words.

*

“Randolph!” 

Saul’s voice was loud and urgent, he feared he realized too late what should have been obvious from the beginning.

“Not now, Saul!” Randolph all but growled.

“No! Randolph! Wait!”

The urgence in his voice must have gotten through Randolph’s focus because he finally turned around, an expression of great exasperation on his face.

“ _What?!_ ”

Saul tugged him away from the door and whispered, pointing discreetly at Hawkes: “His hands!”

Hawkes was gripping the edge of the counter, knuckles white. In his distress, he forgot to control his powers and his fingers were glowing. Randolph looked at him, then back at Saul in incomprehension. Saul wanted to shake him.

“Hawkes _works_ with his hands. He uses magic to _sew_. Could he repair the damage? If you helped?”

“Why should I do that?” Randolph hissed.

Saul wanted to say, _dammit look at them_. They stood pressed together now, Hawkes protectively shielding Cheney, who looked as if the world collapsed under him. Saul guessed it had been his passion that had created this and Hawkes went with it because he would do anything for Cheney. But it wouldn’t do to point this out to Randolph. He might very well find some compassion for them but his duty always came first. It had to and Saul wouldn’t have stepped in if he hadn’t thought he had an alternative solution.

“Because if he could do it,” he whispered slowly, willing Randolph to see his reasoning, “he could help repair the veil not only here, but elsewhere too. And if you help them, he will be indebted to you, more than you think.”

“If,” Randolph said. “Hm. I suppose we should find out.”

He strode resolutely to the tailors, who visibly shrunk away from him.

“Give me your hand,” he offered his palm to Hawkes.

“Why?” the man said cautiously.

“Do it,” Saul said. “He won’t hurt you.” 

Hawkes’s hand trembled as he stretched it out. Randolph gripped it with both his hands and closed his eyes. The glow of Hawkes’s hand intensified, shining through Randolph’s fingers. The smell of ivy filled the air as Randoph focused.

Saul couldn’t breathe. He wished so fervently this worked. Cheney stared intently at the joined hands too, not knowing what was going on but obviously sensing the importance. Finally Randolph let go, sweat beading on his forehead. 

“You were right,” he turned to Saul with appreciation in his eyes. “He can do it.”

Saul breathed a sigh of relief, caught Cheney’s look and smiled.

“Seems you might keep your business after all. And get home.”

“Don’t count your chickens yet,” Randolph said but he was smiling too. He shrugged off his jacket and nodded to Hawkes. “Roll up your sleeves, we have work to do.”

***

_Six months later._

Randolph found Saul curled by the fireplace with a book and dangled the hanger in front of him. 

“Hawkes and Cheney send their regards,” he said, dropping the suit into Saul’s arms. “Although I fail to see why I’m doing the work and you are getting presents.”

“Well,” Saul said as he unwrapped the cover, “you have your own tailor. And you also said theirs were too flashy.”

“This one doesn’t seem to be,” Randolph remarked and stepped closer to examine it.

It was a lovely daytime tweed suit in soft brown colour, cut slim to accentuate Saul’s lean build and long legs. 

‘I managed to persuade them to keep all the flashiness inside.”

Saul revealed the lining of the jacket. It was lush green, with a pattern of tiny oak leaves, some of them glossy.

“For heaven’s sake!” Randolph exclaimed, laughing.

“How are they doing?” Saul inquired, leaning into him. Randolph had been working regularly with Hawkes now but Saul had been occupied in other tasks with Sam and hadn’t seen the tailors for some time. 

“Very well. They asked us out for dinner next time they are here, which is the following Tuesday.”

“Great! Let’s hope nobody attempts to destroy England that evening, shall we?” 


End file.
